


Red Dreams

by Ginipig



Series: Cullistair One-Shots [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Future in Redcliffe, Everybody Lives, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Red Lyrium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginipig/pseuds/Ginipig
Summary: Alistair learns that Leliana wasn't the only one of the Inquisition's advisers Trevelyan and Dorian found in the bowels of Redcliffe Castle in the Dark Future. He does not react well.
Relationships: Alistair/Cullen Rutherford, cullistair - Relationship
Series: Cullistair One-Shots [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604995
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Red Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> See end notes for spoilery details about the triggers for this fic.

“He’s more determined than I’ve ever seen him, and I know he’s pushing himself too hard.” Full of frenetic energy, Alistair paced in front of the war table. “And when he pushes himself he doesn’t sleep, and when he doesn’t sleep he gets stupid, and he can’t afford to be stupid around all that red lyrium!”

“I know,” Trevelyan said quietly.

“And I’ve tried talking to him, but he’s insistent that _he_ has to go with you, even though he doesn’t, he just wants to because he feels responsible.”

Leliana rounded the table and walked toward him. “Alistair.”

“And he only feels responsible because of this Samson bastard and how he used to know him, and because he’s always thinking about the what-ifs of his life, and he’s known a few of the red templars you’ve had to kill, and it’s eating him up inside, but he can’t see that his withdrawals make him _more_ susceptible to the red lyrium, and if he’s wounded and gets even a little bit of the dust in him, he’ll be corrupted, and —”

Trevelyan slammed her open hand onto the war table. “I _know_ , Alistair!” she shouted.

Alistair froze, first gaping at Trevelyan, then glancing to Leliana, who for a fraction of a second looked as surprised as he did. He’d seen the Inquisitor deal with lots of stressful situations — Adamant and the Winter Palace, to name only two — but he’d never seen her snap like that.

Then again, Morrigan had always said he could annoy a darkspawn into heading back to the Deep Roads.

“Trust me when I tell you,” Trevelyan whispered, head bowed, both palms flat against the table, “that I know _exactly_ what could happen if he comes into contact with red lyrium. I’ve seen it.”

“I — of course you have,” Alistair muttered. She’d been fighting red templars since before the Wardens had branded him a traitor. Since Haven. “You’ve fought against them more than I have, and I —”

“No. I’ve seen what could happen to _Cullen_ if he comes into contact with red lyrium.” At his confused look, Trevelyan added, “I saw it in the future.”

Her words were a freshly sharpened knife, slicing into his heart so cleanly he didn’t realize what was happening until he couldn’t breathe.

She’d seen Cullen when that Vint’s freaky time magic sent her and Dorian a year into the future? That didn’t match up with what he’d heard about the Dark Future, as most folks had taken to calling it.

“But I thought —”

“The official report was a sanitized version,” Leliana explained. “Only the war council was briefed on the full truth.”

“Which was … ?” Though phrased as a question, Alistair wasn’t asking so much as demanding answers.

Leliana’s mouth thinned. “I wasn’t the only adviser found being tortured in the bowels of Redcliffe Castle.”

“No …” Alistair shook his head. Not Cullen. Not torture. Not in Alistair’s childhood home (such as it was).

Not _red lyrium_.

Trevelyan sighed, and she seemed far more tired than she usually did. “You may want to sit down for this.”

* * *

Alistair was awakened by the unmistakable, impossible-to-sleep-through clamor of Skyhold’s main gate being opened. In an instant, he was on his feet and dressing quickly to meet … those who had returned.

Every movement was pained. His heart, ripped in two by the contents of Trevelyan’s letter, bled freely, as if he’d read it a moment ago and not a week earlier. In fact, he was surprised he could move at all, sure he was leaving a trail of misery behind him, evidence of the mortal wound he wished would kill him faster.

But in spite of it all, he nearly sprinted across the battlements, through the rotunda and main hall to the war room, where Leliana met him, her expression as somber as when her love had died killing the archdemon.

“Where —” Alistair choked out.

Leliana merely motioned for him to follow her, across the hall and down several flights of stairs.

“But, the infirmary —”

“Is not feasible,” Leliana said, twisting the knife already lodged in his chest as she continued down, down, down into the keep where no sunlight reached and torches were always lit.

She stopped at a large door and turned to him. “Alistair, you should prepare —”

Alistair pushed past her, shoving the heavy door open with his shoulder, into a room — no, a _dungeon_ filled with empty prison cells.

All except for one, from which emanated an eerie, haunting, whispering red glow.

Trevelyan approached him, tears in her eyes. “Alistair, I’m so —”

But Alistair ignored her as he had Leliana, knees weak, and he looked into the cell.

Cullen sat against the far wall, eyes closed, one leg outstretched, the other crooked, with his arm resting on his knee.

A large, red crystal protruded from one of his shoulders, and dozens of others lined various parts of him, reminding Alistair of the ones Shale had used for protection during the Blight.

Only Shale was a golem, and her crystals were removable and came in every color _but_ red.

At the sound of Alistair’s footsteps, Cullen opened his eyes — revealing an unnatural, glowing red amid their amber.

“No …” Alistair swayed on his feet, leaning against the bars to steady himself.

Cullen let his head fell back against the wall, staring at the roof of his cell. “Why is he here?”

His voice had an odd, echo-y quality to it, as if several Cullens spoke at once.

Alistair’s legs finally gave out, and he sank to his knees. “Because I —”

“I didn’t want you to see!” Cullen’s voices snapped, while his mouth curled into a snarl not unlike a rabid mabari. “It’s Calling. The Song. Calling me to His side. I need to answer. Let me answer!”

Cullen lunged forward, and in a blink his hand was through the bars, grasping Alistair’s throat.

“He wants you, too, Warden,” Cullen hissed. A deeper, harsher voice, awful yet familiar, seemed to speak through him now, and his eyes were wide, bright red, and monstrous. “The others came when He Called, and He’s angry you resisted.”

Then Cullen jerked his hand away, and his eyes returned to their previous reddish amber. “Don’t —” He sounded like himself, though still doubled as before. “Don’t listen, Alistair. Leave me …” He turned away, burying his face in his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Alistair breathed. “I won’t. We can find a way to —”

“I can’t let Him get you, too!” Cullen cried. “He will if you stay, and I won’t be able to stop him.”

“Shh.” Tears streamed down Alistair’s cheeks. “It’ll be all right, Cullen, I promise.” He reached through the bars to lay a hand on Cullen’s arm. “Just let me —”

“You can’t have him!” Cullen shouted, and a dagger appeared in his hands. “I won’t let you!”

Leliana and Trevelyan raced to the cell door as Cullen raised his arms, aiming the dagger at his heart.

He looked up at Alistair one last time. “I’m sorry.”

A flash of movement, and he doubled over.

“Cullen, no!”

Alistair’s eyes shot open, and he sat bolt upright, gasping for air.

“Alistair?”

Strong, warm, steady hands clasped his face, and he looked up into Cullen’s eyes — wide, concerned …

… and not red. Only the beautiful amber Alistair loved.

He threw his arms around Cullen’s neck and collapsed against him, sobbing.

“Shh,” Cullen murmured, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Alistair’s back. “It was only a dream.”

Alistair clutched him tight. “I dreamed you went to Sahrnia and when you came back, you were — you were —”

Cullen sighed and drew Alistair closer, placing a steady hand against the back of his head. “I’ll be all right.”

“But you weren’t! Not in the Dark Future. Trev said you —”

Cullen turned to press his lips against Alistair’s temple. “I wish she hadn’t told you.”

“You told her yourself that you’re more susceptible!” Alistair cried. “Withdrawals make you —”

“ _I_ told her no such thing. That was someone else, another me from a horrible future that did not come to pass. The Inquisitor stopped it, and I will not —”

“He talked to me through you!” Alistair gasped, his breathing out of control now. “He was angry I helped stop the Wardens, and then you fought back and said you were sorry and took a dagger and —”

“Alistair.”

Cullen’s hands clasped his face again, but not gently this time. Hard, as if he were trying to squeeze juice from some fruit that was Alistair’s head, and then he shook him. Alistair went a little cross-eyed for a moment.

“Alistair,” Cullen said sternly, using his Commander Voice. “It was a dream. I’ve fought and studied enough red templars to know that that’s not how it works. Corypheus cannot speak to _or_ through them, and I assure you that, as important as you are to me, he has far bigger things to worry about.”

“Like you.” Alistair’s vision blurred.

“No.” Cullen grabbed Alistair’s chin and held it in place. “Like whatever he’s going after in the Arbor Wilds. He believes himself a god, and we are all ants to him. Save for the Inquisitor, and then only due to the mark on her hand.”

His grip loosened, and his thumbs caressed Alistair’s cheeks, so gently and sweetly wiping away tears that Alistair had no choice but to relax.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Alistair whispered.

“I swear on the lives of my friends and my family and _you_ ,” Cullen said, kissing Alistair on the forehead, “that I will be so careful I’ll be bored.”

Alistair huffed a small laugh.

Cullen smiled. “There’s my Alistair.”

“Wait.” Alistair frowned. “Am I not your friend _or_ your family?”

Cullen rolled his eyes and kissed him before he could say anything else.

The instant their lips met, Alistair yanked him close and devoured every bit he could in order to replace the horrid images and emotions from his dream with real, concrete sensations — the feel of Cullen’s body, the way he smelled, the smoothness of his lips, the eagerness with which he acquiesced to Alistair pulling them both back down to the bed.

“I love you.” Alistair gulped when he came up for air. “So much.”

Cullen pulled him close. “And I you. Now rest,” he whispered, fingers stroking Alistair’s hair. “And dream of griffons instead. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Mmm. Yes, sir.” As Alistair settled into Cullen’s arms, a thought occurred to him. “Do I help you like this after your nightmares?”

“No.” Cullen’s mouth moved against his forehead. “You’re much better at it.”

Smiling, Alistair let his eyes droop closed.

“Though I’ll admit it’s nice to be on the other side for once,” Cullen added.

Between the curve of Cullen’s lips against his skin and that classic Cullen sardonic undertone, Alistair burst into laughter.

Cullen tsked, but that only made Alistair laugh even more.

“You’re right,” he sighed at the end of his laughter. “I am better at this than you. I’m wide awake now.”

“I could read to you.” Was it his imagination, or did Cullen sound a little hopeful?

Alistair grinned. “Only if it’s from _Swords and Shields_.”

Cullen let out a long-suffering sigh, but said, “Very well.”

Alistair had one last thought before drifting off to the sound of Cullen trying not to scoff at every other sentence.

If Cullen loved him enough to endure Varric’s writing, he loved him enough to fight against Samson and even Corypheus himself in order to return home to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, it's all a dream and no one dies! But a red-lyrium-infected Cullen thrusts a dagger into his own chest just as Alistair wakes up.


End file.
